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Uhhh....what?
17 Aug 2014 14:37I've generally had fairly sensible and/or lucid dreams in the past, but last night things just went completely off the cuff.
There were protests going on all over town (not sure which town it was...I think it was my hometown back in Iowa, only...not?) due to accusations of rampant police corruption and brutality. I got to experience these first-hand when, on my way to drop off my rent check for my house, I got grabbed by two officers who said they were arresting me for being part of the "terrorist group" that they'd labeled the protesters as. The moment I started to refute their claims, they labeled that as proof (since I was protesting their actions, that made me a de facto protester...or some such bullshit) and cracked me over the head with a nightstick.
I came to, which I would find out was days later, in a jail cell. Viewing my reflection in a mirror, I realized a few things.
1- The blow to my head apparently had caused me to bleed out from around my eyes, draining all the color from my face except where it had smeared around them. Beyond that, though, I was apparently fine...until the second realization hit.
2- I had no idea who I was or where anything I owned, including my house, was.
3- Trying to think about all this was proving difficult, as there was a lot of gunfire going on down the hall. It quickly proceeded to become a lot of gunfire coming from just outside my cell as a squad of Marines barged in, taking out the cops in rather brutal fashion. Apparently the claims of corruption had been proven true, and instead of surrendering, the entire police force had decided to resort to lethal force against the protesters, as well as the National Guard when they were called in to calm things down; as a result, a sweeper team had been brought in to take them out by force. (Oorah.)
A military officer came in and let me out of my cell, as they had all the others after working out who was rightfully there...which turned out to be nobody...and who had simply been thrown in because the police felt like doing it...which, by process of elimination, turned out to be everyone. They had a medical team check me out, verified I was fine aside from the facial discoloration, got me my belongings, and sent me on my way.
Checking my belongings, I found the check I'd been carrying before, and things started to return to mind. I couldn't remember my address, but I remembered what my house looked like, so I started walking down the street, breaking into a faster and faster run until I was technically going faster than humanly possible (I think about 55 MPH?), looking side to side trying to spot it. Finally, I did...with a "for sale" sign on it, as well as all of my stuff on the curb with lots of graffiti sprayed onto it in various places, saying things like "freeloader" and "get lost." Apparently, even though I still had 2 days to pay my rent, my landlord had decided I was a deadbeat and was working on kicking me out...and, apparently, on tearing the whole place down. It was looking ridiculous derelict on the outside, but still, it was my home, so I had to make sure everything was okay. I unlocked the door, ran in, got to the kitchen...
And lo and behold, there's the Doctor (Ten / David Tennant incarnation), sitting at what's left of my kitchen table, enjoying a sandwich.
"Ah! Good, there you are! We need to get going!"
I'm understandably confused at this point, but not for the right reasons. Rather than "who are you and how did you get in my house?" the only question that escapes my mouth is "Go? Go where?"
"Well, first off, you're gonna need to wake up."
"What?"
And then, here in the real world, my alarm goes off. I look around, see my real home (a fair bit smaller than the dream one, but in significantly better condition), lay there for a bit, and finally manage to work something out of my mouth.
"...what."
There were protests going on all over town (not sure which town it was...I think it was my hometown back in Iowa, only...not?) due to accusations of rampant police corruption and brutality. I got to experience these first-hand when, on my way to drop off my rent check for my house, I got grabbed by two officers who said they were arresting me for being part of the "terrorist group" that they'd labeled the protesters as. The moment I started to refute their claims, they labeled that as proof (since I was protesting their actions, that made me a de facto protester...or some such bullshit) and cracked me over the head with a nightstick.
I came to, which I would find out was days later, in a jail cell. Viewing my reflection in a mirror, I realized a few things.
1- The blow to my head apparently had caused me to bleed out from around my eyes, draining all the color from my face except where it had smeared around them. Beyond that, though, I was apparently fine...until the second realization hit.
2- I had no idea who I was or where anything I owned, including my house, was.
3- Trying to think about all this was proving difficult, as there was a lot of gunfire going on down the hall. It quickly proceeded to become a lot of gunfire coming from just outside my cell as a squad of Marines barged in, taking out the cops in rather brutal fashion. Apparently the claims of corruption had been proven true, and instead of surrendering, the entire police force had decided to resort to lethal force against the protesters, as well as the National Guard when they were called in to calm things down; as a result, a sweeper team had been brought in to take them out by force. (Oorah.)
A military officer came in and let me out of my cell, as they had all the others after working out who was rightfully there...which turned out to be nobody...and who had simply been thrown in because the police felt like doing it...which, by process of elimination, turned out to be everyone. They had a medical team check me out, verified I was fine aside from the facial discoloration, got me my belongings, and sent me on my way.
Checking my belongings, I found the check I'd been carrying before, and things started to return to mind. I couldn't remember my address, but I remembered what my house looked like, so I started walking down the street, breaking into a faster and faster run until I was technically going faster than humanly possible (I think about 55 MPH?), looking side to side trying to spot it. Finally, I did...with a "for sale" sign on it, as well as all of my stuff on the curb with lots of graffiti sprayed onto it in various places, saying things like "freeloader" and "get lost." Apparently, even though I still had 2 days to pay my rent, my landlord had decided I was a deadbeat and was working on kicking me out...and, apparently, on tearing the whole place down. It was looking ridiculous derelict on the outside, but still, it was my home, so I had to make sure everything was okay. I unlocked the door, ran in, got to the kitchen...
And lo and behold, there's the Doctor (Ten / David Tennant incarnation), sitting at what's left of my kitchen table, enjoying a sandwich.
"Ah! Good, there you are! We need to get going!"
I'm understandably confused at this point, but not for the right reasons. Rather than "who are you and how did you get in my house?" the only question that escapes my mouth is "Go? Go where?"
"Well, first off, you're gonna need to wake up."
"What?"
And then, here in the real world, my alarm goes off. I look around, see my real home (a fair bit smaller than the dream one, but in significantly better condition), lay there for a bit, and finally manage to work something out of my mouth.
"...what."